


Nox and the Vampire Hunt

by Nekhs



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Better Vampires Mod, Blackthorn mod, Character Turned Into Vampire, Companions, Diary/Journal, Disaster bi dovahkiin, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Gay Male Character, Interesting NPCs Mod, Lord Harkon's Court, Modded Skyrim, Multi, NaNoWriMo 2019, POV Bisexual Character, POV First Person, Take Notes mod, The notice board mod, Thief, Vampire Hunters, Werewolves, apostate Bosmer, demisexual author, help these mod followers are amazing and I love them, lycanthropy, stealth archer assassin build is best, street rat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-01-22 12:43:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 7,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21302279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekhs/pseuds/Nekhs
Summary: One young Bosmer sets off to Skyrim in order to track down her idiot brother.Along the way, she accidentally trips over a handful of divine secrets, more bandits than any province has a right to, and a couple of ancient conspiracies. Oops.
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Lucien Flavius, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Lydia
Comments: 46
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To anybody waiting for my next MCU fic: sorry for the delay, my inspiration and motivation took a Disney-shaped boot to the face.
> 
> To everybody else: welcome aboard Neko's NaNo2019! I'm going to try posting an entry a day, but I'm writing a bit more (and a bit faster) than that.
> 
> This just gives me time to actually, I dunno, catch mistakes and such.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our hero gets cold.

**\---Last Seed, 17th, 4E 201---**

I really don't know how Angi does it, up here in the mountains, other than that she's a nord, and they don't really feel cold the way I do.

Bloodlet Throne was a bust - there were vampires there, all right, but no sign of Ronthil.

Bloody fetchers - won't let you get a word in edgewise, either. They're all half-mad with hunger, it seems like, and a mortal walking into their midst is apparently an invitation to feed, even one who might be there to hunt them the way they hunt their own prey.

Since this is a new journal, I may as well recap: I've come to Skyrim to look for my idiot brother, Ronthil, who took up with a vampire he met back home and left me to fend for myself.

I don't entirely blame him - what I've learned of them, these bloodsuckers can mesmerize their prey with a single glance. He probably doesn't even realize what he's done, poor bastard. He's always getting into trouble like that, falling in with the wrong sorts of people. 

This time is just ... worse than usual.

Anyway, so his boyfriend carried him off into the night or whatever, I got a bit maimed when I first went looking for him, and now I've crossed the border - illegally - into a country that's supposed to be in the middle of a bloody civil war.

Gods all help me.

This place isn't anything like Cyrodiil. It's all high mountains, like Bruma was, but even colder, if you believe that. The whole place is a lawless mess, and being a Bosmer, if I say the wrong thing to the wrong people, they'll accuse me of being a damned Thalmor spy.

Look, I get it. Elves bad. Ooga booga. What the fuck have the Thalmor ever done for me? Not a damned thing, other than raze my home for the glory of the Altmer or some such nonsense.

I grew up in the Imperial City. Do you think I honestly wanted to see a war up close? Fuck that.

Anyway, Angi's given me leave to make camp outside her hut for tonight, but tomorrow I'm making my way down into the woods. She says if I keep heading north I ought to make my way to a dreary old town by the name of Falkreath, which is capital of the hold - holds are small chunks of Skyrim, in the same way countries are small chunks of the Empire.

I'm real glad I picked up this habit of writing things down. Maybe it isn't very thiefly of me, but it helps me put my thoughts in a proper kind of order. I'll never be a wizard or anything, but at least I know my letters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elf bad, nord good, worship Talos and all will be well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Divines are feeling funny.

**\---Last Seed, 19th, 4E 201---**

Nobles.

Don't get me wrong! Some of them - like this Lucien fellow - are pretty great as people, but they're almost always fair useless when you need them to do something.

At least this one admits it.

So, I got into town at the ass-crack of dawn, like you do, and I figured I'd check about for work.

See, the thing is, I'm still going to need supplies and the like to actually do much investigating at all, and one thing to note about vampires is they have a habit of well - being indiscreet, let's say. By which I mean, they leave a trail of bodies, make problems for the locals, and get bounties put up for being menaces.

You know, like bandits, but with more bloodsucking.

Anyway, this fellow accosts me, all brazen-like, then backpedals hard - turns out he's not looking for a quick fuck or anything, he's just really bad at articulating himself, I guess.

He's a nobleman, like I was getting at, says his name's Lucien Flavius, and he's fairly useless in a fight. At least he owns it, and he's paying good coin to 'tag along' on my little adventures.

He seems to think I'm some world-wise sellsword, even though I'm fair certain he's older than I am, given I'm barely a woman grown. Even by human standards, I'm young, and most of my life being spent on the streets, it's not like I've got so much experience in the wild woodlands as he seems to think.

But I'm a Bosmer, you know. There's a certain reputation we've got, what with the cannibalism (or so I'm told?) and the archery and all.

So, for the record, I'm a street thief who happens to have gotten lucky a few times more than maybe is my fair share. Lady Luck looking out for me and all that. I know my way around a bow, but I'm not some hyper-competent huntress of the wilds, and I don't know enough about the Green to say I know more than it's important to folk.

Mom died when Ronthil and I were young, and I never did know who our father was, which meant our raising fell to the local orphanage, our learning, too.

Turns out this Lucien fellow's from the Imperial City, too. Small world, that, but we didn't exactly run in the same circles, on account of him being a, "scientist, philosopher, and amateur wizard," or so he says. Also I guess he's a hobbyist minstrel; he's got a lovely voice for it, truth told. Anyway, the sort of person who talks like that, dresses like that, and acts like that - he's a prissy nobleman, and I know it, and he knows it, and if the Divines weren't feeling funny lately, we'd likely never have met.

But here we are, and here's my pockets a couple hundred coins heavier for the trouble of babysitting a noble brat.

Honestly, given he's got no particular destination in mind, this ought to be fairly easy. Probably cut back on any thieving for now - not only do I not have a reliable fence, but I'd rather not get lectured or worse - reported to the guard.

Nords aren't exactly a gentle sort of folk. I can't imagine getting myself imprisoned would go over too well, especially given I'm an elf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New friend new friend 
> 
> I love Lucien (he's a mod follower, for LE and SSE, look him up!) even if it takes a bit for Nox to warm up to him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which seriosly, fuck spriggans, but like, not literally.

**\---Last Seed, 20th, 4E 201---**

If I never have to deal with another Spriggan in my life, it'll be too soon. They're all over the damn place in Falkreath, literally coming out of the trees in places.

I'm not the only one who feels that way, apparently, but most folk who try picking a fight with them seem to end up torn to ribbons by those damned claws, or the magic they have that stings like a dozen pissed-off bees.

I know they only mean to protect what's theirs - that's understandable, ain't too many folk who'd dispute that's a worthy aim.

It's just, like as not, what's 'theirs' isn't clearly marked except for it being green.

Or, for an example that took three hunters and damned near killed me - this couple of bears fled the hunters, right into the spriggan's nest. Spriggans have this hold on all things natural, so the bears turn back to join the fray when we go to help - it could've gone bad.

This Lucien fellow wasn't kidding, when he said he was a bit of a wizard. He only knows a couple spells, but what he does know, he does well. Fire's nobody's close friend, on account of the burning, which makes it damned effective in a fight.

Moreover, it'll be good against my real prey.

Make no mistake, I've been taking these side jobs, hunting bandits and whatnot, in order to have enough coin for supplies, but if I come up on a lead that'll let me track down my brother, I don't think I could bring myself to care about much else, even if it means killing every bloodsucker in Skyrim.

Hopefully, it won't come to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skyrim is a stable game and I definitely didn't lose progress because of a critical script failing to function. 
> 
> Yep. Definitely not. 
> 
> After all, It Just Works.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our hero takes a short break in heroing to converse.

** \---Last Seed, 20th, 4E 201--- **

Well. That was - different.

So, Lucien mentioned that, you know, road dirt and all that, maybe the reason these nords aren't that fond of me is I might've been smelling a bit ripe - and, okay, yeah, there was more than a bit of blood and grime on my gear, too.

I didn't really have the heart to point out that I could be the goddess Dibella, and smell like a spring rain, for all the Nords care; I'm an elf, and that's what matters.

Maybe some of them will comment on me being pretty - those are the ones to watch out for, and why I sleep with a knife under my pillow. It's only a matter of time before I'll have to use it. I've had to threaten to make a woman out of more than one man, if you catch my meaning, in order to get them to leave me be, and that was before I got to Skyrim.

Either way, I think I can fair conclusively rule Lucien out of that category. 

I might have made a show of it, off behind the lumber mill, right, let him catch me naked with the intent to fluster him worse than I already did that first meeting. It's - fun. By which I mean, it's funny. He's got this - innocence, to him.

Anyway, after he scooped his jaw off the ground, the first question out of his mouth was about my tattoos, and we spent like an hour talking about the kind of magic it takes to lay an enchantment on a person, much less one that sticks. I paid good money for my tattoos, even if they don't do anything other than look pretty - it feels good to have someone take such an interest in them.

Honestly, he took it all pretty well in stride, to where I didn't even feel like I had to cover up after I got done cleaning off, really. It was - comfortable, just sitting and talking for a bit, basking in the sun and all. 

He did seem awful impressed with the ink, though, and more when I explained that most of it was just laid in with needles. Only the glowing dots are lit up in magic, and they all had to be done one at a time. It took a while, and cost more than I ought to have spent, but that's kind of a habit of mine. 

Lady Luck's always smiled on me, you know? I make a fair bit of coin doing this and that, some of it even honest, and then I spend most of it.

It's not exactly a comfortable life - I doubt I'll ever be properly rich this way - but it's worked out for me, anyway.

There's a job on the board to head north, a bit - just into Whiterun Hold, I'm fair certain - to clear out some undead that've made a nuisance of themselves. We'll be stopping over in Helgen - Lucien says they've got this really tasty mead - before we head north.

He saved my ass with those Spriggans. I'm happy enough to make a smallish detour like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mods involved: Bathing in Skyrim, The Notice Board, Lucien
> 
> Lucien is a wonderful follower, but he's not quite as situationally aware as I'm portraying him.
> 
> Which is probably for the best, since too much smarter, and he'd realize he's in a simulation and have an existential crisis, okay.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the inevitable happens.

**\---Last Seed, 22nd, 4E 201---**

So, Helgen isn't there anymore.

Which is a wild statement to write down, I'll tell you what. If it were bandits or, Oblivion, even enemy soldiers taking the place, there'd still be people left.

What happened there - there weren't survivors.

I spotted a flash of black in the sky, but Lucien's the one who identified it for what it actually was - he's the one who saw the dragon clearly.

Its roar was deafening, ground-shaking, and I had the weird urge to shout right back at it.

A challenge, maybe, or an answer. I dunno, it was weird, like I said.

I got him a couple bottles of that mead he wanted, all the same, while we were picking over the rubble for survivors.

We didn't find any. It was carnage, blood and burned bodies everywhere.

Now, this might come as a surprise if you've been following along, but I didn't used to be that great of a person, you know? My first instinct here was to be glad I wasn't a part of it, with the hopes that the dragon didn't come for me.

Lucien, on the other hand, grew up privileged. He can get by if he stops to do altruism every now and again - he pointed out that folk need to know about a dragon, since folk need to prepare for if something like that happened again. So, instead of stopping by the place with the zombies or whatever, we headed north to Riverwood, and from there, Whiterun, since Riverwood's technically Whiterun Hold.

Borders. More trouble than they're worth. I'd know, I slipped across well away from the official checkpoints, being I didn't have any proper paperwork to work with.

Not that I suppose it matters, now. Helgen's where you'd come in official-like, and Helgen's - as I mentioned - not a place anymore.

Gods, imagine if I got nabbed by the guard. I could be one of them burned-out husks.

Awful thought, that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Dovahkiin are feral gremlins on account of the dragon soul. Pass it on.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which nobody important is killed.

** \---Last Seed, 23rd, 4E 201--- **

It feels vaguely surreal to just go back to business as usual after all that. 

I'll grant, my idea of 'business as usual' is maybe not the norm; being an adventurer leaves very few days to be the same, truth told. 

Still, I keep scanning the skies like that dragon will swoop down on me.

And yet, mostly, the things that have tried to kill me today are bandits and the walking dead, same as always. It'd almost be disappointing, if it weren't still reliably life or death.

Lucien doesn't get how - I guess - callous? I can be?

Yeah, they're people too. People aren't any better than animals - often worse. I dunno - I got dulled to the idea of death a long time ago.

Anyway, bandits killed, undead killed, still no more vampire news. 

Got offered a job with the Companions though, I might take them up on it? I dunno. I'm not really the honorable warrior type.

Ah - Lucien gave me this - rock, yesterday. It's a dwemer thing, if you rub on it, it's got a twin, and it sorta hums when you get close to the other one. Honestly, it's a pretty interesting thing, even if I can't really pretend I understand it at all.

\--

Well, that was an unpleasant dream. 

That fucking dragon again - more like how Lucien described it, though, all black scales, with red eyes, and it was looking at me.

I always feel jumpy when folk are looking at me directly, much less when it's something that could murder me with a thought, you know? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find dreams are more interesting for clairvoyance than 'eerie blue line says go this way.'
> 
> Nox is convinced that her murderhobo ways are bc she grew up on the streets, but it is actually the dragon soul's yearning for destruction. Fun fact!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a dragon was killed and that's somehow not the first thing Nox actually explicitly describes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or: Friends with benefits, established. 
> 
> You know, benefits other than watching each others' backs, and companionship, and a sounding-board for your ideas and -
> 
> \- you get the idea.

**\---Last Seed, 24th, 4E 201---**

So I know Jarl Balgruuf is going to be wanting a report and all, but if he wanted a soldier's discipline, he ought to have hired a soldier.

Oh wait. He did. Irileth's got this.

Battle-fever's wild, you know? Put a person in a life-or-death situation, and when all's said and done, the first instinct is fucking, and the second's sleep. Maybe in the morning we'll regret what we got up to - maybe not.

I'm hopeful, not. Once we figured out how everything went together properly - it's been a while, okay - that was - fun. That was a lot of fun.

A lot of fucking fun, even.

So, before my head goes all the way to mush, the actual details of the day, then.

Bleak Falls Barrow - we went and collected the dragonstone. Am I the only one who feels like a lot of the traps and such were meant as much to keep what's inside the barrow - inside?

I dunno, the puzzle lock was insurmountable without the claw, but laughably simple once you had the key. 

Get back to Whiterun to drop it off - the rock was fucking heavy, by the way - and this courier's waiting for me with a couple letters. 

One's talking about how the Jarl of Falkreath's taken an interest in my coming and going in his hold, so that's kind of worrisome, and the other - the other. I don't know how to feel about the other letter I got, and I asked Lucien, and he agrees it looks kind of like a trap.

Moreover, though, I haven't made it that plain why I'm here, have I?

Who's sending me this letter, then, pointing me at some sorta sketchy 'vampire rumors?'

I don't know. I don't like it.

It feels like a trap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incidentally, I have several of _those_ kinds of mods installed, too. 
> 
> "But Neko," I hear one or more of you reply. "You're ace spectrum!"
> 
> I'll just use the defense my roommate uses: _muh immersion._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nox doesn't want to be a hero.

**\---Last Seed, 25th, 4E 201---**

I'm with Irileth on this one: I don't need some mythical Dragonborn.

I especially don't need it to be me.

So, the one thing I never want to hear anyone say, no matter who they are, no matter how benign, is, 'We were just talking about you!' Particularly not noblemen, as a matter of fact.

So here's me, skulking into Dragonsreach early, hoping nobody noticed I was more than a bit late on that report, when I get beckoned to and brought up before the Jarl, because apparently, that light show with the dragon? Yeah, that's supposed to be some kind of sign that I've got dragon's blood in me, like the Emperors of old or some such thing.

And now they want me to climb some seven thousand steps to meet with some ancient monks or something, named the 'Graybeards,' presumably because they're bearded old men. 

Because of my service in murdering the big scaly bastard, though, I've been nobled, apparently? Thane of Whiterun, which is meant as an honor more than a title with practical purpose, though I refuse to be one of those nobles who does nothing, particularly on account of the fact that buying a home - even at the kind of discount an honored hero gets - is kind of expensive, as is making sure everyone in my little group has enough to eat and drink for the road.

In other news, unrelated to my destiny or what-have-you, it's no longer just me and Lucien - now, there's Lydia, who's something of a bodyguard for me and all I own, and Zora Fair-Child.

Of the two, Lydia's the pretty one, but Zora has her charm too - she's got character, and makes a joke out of everything, or so it seems.

Lydia's quiet - reserved is maybe what I'd say - while Zora is boisterous. They both eat well, though - you have to, being a fighter of any stripe - put me and Lucien to shame, really. Zora's just louder about enjoying it.

Apparently, Zora's got this idea she owes me some kind of a debt for picking the lock to her cage, and I suppose in a sense, she'd be right, but what kind of bastard would just leave someone to rot?

I suppose that's a part of why I've never gotten on well with the law, though: I've never been a fan of cages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Social anxiety would prefer you're forgotten entirely, if it means nobody thinks badly about you either.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our hero, our hero - resigns herself to the inevitable, that's it, send tweet.

**\---Last Seed, 26th, 4E 201---**

"Nox the Nightwalker," hm? Catchy, I suppose.

So, maybe there is something to this whole Dragonborn business. That's two, now, which is two more kills than anybody else in Skyrim can claim, as far as I know.

I ought to go up that mountain, but - 

Man, fuck Skyrim's mountains. Getting up to the Ancient's Ascent was hassle enough, and that was just a short climb. The blizzard that rolled through certainly didn't help, but the wind won't be any kinder when I go to speak to the Graybeards.

When, not if, because yeah, I guess I need to know more about this 'shouting' business. I've got work left to do with my feet on the ground, and Ivarstead's all the way off in the Rift, but given I've gotten no better leads on the vampire front - I guess I'll need to focus my efforts where I can actually make a difference.

If Ronthil's in this province, and has the ability to do so, he'll come looking for me in his own time.

I hope.

Gods, I hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frostfall is a great mod because it lets me subject my ocs to the same shit that happens outside every winter : )


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nox ain't afraid of no curses.

**\---Last Seed, 27th, 4E 201---**

I'm hopeful this ring does nothing to me, being that I didn't start out as a werebeast.

If it does - I suppose I'll burn that bridge when I come to it. I can't say my response probably pleased Hircine; that man's kill can be laid at the Daedra's feet, and I figure the Prince of the Hunt knows it.

So, it turns out there's a reason that every fort and ruin from here to Whiterun is filled with bandits; Jarl Siddgeir apparently had an arrangement going, and one he means to break off now, on account of they're bandits, and unlike honest folk, you can't expect them to pay taxes.

Dumbass.

Lucien seems amused by my take on the good Jarl's competency, and I pointed out that us lowborn folk put more stock in folk as can get things done, rather than folk with noble birth and gold enough to pay their way through whatever troubles befall them.

Which reminds me, I've taken to showing Lucien a thing or two about how to do the adventuring thing more effectively? He's been picking up bits and bobs as he follows me about, it seems like - at the least, he sounds a bit less like a minotaur when he walks, and I can only figure his lighter step has something to do with the fact I try not to make noise when I walk, you know?

Better to get the drop on your friends and everyone laughs, than to be ambushed by your foes, in my experience. Maybe that's why Hircine chose to appear to me: I prefer being the hunter, over the hunted - and a strong preference is better, I imagine, than none at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: most entries are written after midnight in-game (and just before Nox must sleep; thanks, iNeed!) So that's why the dates are sometimes off.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the hunted becomes the hunter.

**\---Last Seed, 28th, 4E 201---**

So now I have a Daedric artifact.

I - really don't know how to feel about this, other than honored, I guess?

It's supposed to bolster me upon the hunt, and I do feel - healthier, somehow? For wearing it? I dunno, I'm just glad I didn't turn into a face-eating monster and, well, eat my friends' faces. That would've been awkward, not to mention kind of tragic.

I could have killed Sinding, don't get me wrong. He murdered a child, maybe he'd deserve it.

But Hircine demanded he hunt, and Hircine is - persuasive. I can only imagine how much worse it would be, for one who's actually suffering from - Lucien spelled this one out for me, lycanthropy. It's the werebeast condition, there's apparently a few strains, because Hircine decided just wolves weren't enough for him, he had to have bears and stuff, too.

Whatever.

The point is, I dunno if you can really blame a person for the demands of a Daedra, you know? Just because I refused Hircine's command doesn't mean I really defied him, either - he was delighted when we turned the hunt inside-out.

Maybe I'm Dragonborn. Maybe that's why all this stuff is happening to me.

I just - I never thought of myself as an important person, and now I've got the eye of two different Jarls and a Daedric prince?

I think I preferred being a nameless cutpurse.

At least my aim is improving. Angi would be proud of my progress, I think.

Maybe I should pay her a visit, sometime.

Oh, I think dinner's done. Zora's actually a fair decent cook, and Lydia gathered wood for a fire.

I'm so lucky to have friends like these.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unique Uniques is a fun mod. It gives the Ring of Hircine extra utility for non-werebeasts.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nox has never had a proper home before.

**\---Last Seed, 29th, 4E 201---**

I stopped by Whiterun to do a bit of trading - it's the trade hub of Skyrim, you know - and to make sure my house was still there.

My house. Damn, that's a weird phrase to write.

It's kind of cramped, with everybody inside, but it's nice, all told.

I think I'm going to see if the Companions will take me, after all. I seem to be making a name for myself, and that one huntress seemed to think I might fit in, after all.

It can't hurt to try, anyway. What's the worst that happens, they find out I have a checkered past in a country I'm not even currently a resident of?

I dunno. Plus, they might have access to more information about vampires - besides the note I received, I've had precious few leads, and none worth following - again, save this note.

So, I poked around Knifepoint Ridge for Siddgeir, and while there, I tripped over the abandoned den the letter spoke of?

Yeah, there's something unsettling afoot there.

So, I dunno what to make of that den, save this: whoever sent that letter is almost certainly a vampire, themselves, because who else 'cannot be seen to be involved' in searching out information about a wayward vampire who's maybe been cast out of vampire society, insofar as vampires have a society?

I know this isn't the intended use for this armor, but this vampire researcher was looking into mitigating the downsides to being a vampire.

Everybody with even a passing knowledge of bloodsuckers knows fire does pretty nasty damage to them, but then, fire burns everybody. Like Zora said - it burns fast, and often times there's no recourse. So this armor, it's enchanted to make the wearer near immune to flame.

You'll note that the biggest threat to my wellbeing on any given day is a fire-breathing lizard swooping down on me, so - mine, now.

There's supposed to be a lab nearer to Falkreath - where else has a graveyard big enough to make note of? - but I took the long way 'round on account of dealing with Sinding's cursed ring - and his hunters, of course. 

Anyway, tomorrow I'll check in with the Companions, and from there - well, we'll see what's what, after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better Vampires / Better Vampire NPCs / Better Vampire Weapons!
> 
> Or: The only bow I'll be using until at least level 40 bc of its raw damage output. Chiroptris is nuts, yo.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which familial love is deeply important.

**\---Last Seed, 30th, 4E 201---**

So, that's it. I'm a Companion now.

Or at least, on something of a provisionary basis?

Regardless, I didn't stick around long enough to get to truly know too many folk. The lady I met first, her name's Aela, she seems nice.

'The Wolves of Jorrvaskr,' huh. I think I understand why I was drawn to the mead-hall - maybe I ought to throw this ring down a well. Between that and 'sacrificing a part of your humanity,' well - I think I have a fair idea what joining the Circle will entail, if I ever make it that far in working with them.

I've been having - dreams, lately. Visions, a more magey type might call them, but truthfully, I doubt it's anything so grand. Just - they're different from what I had before, and a bit more - well - on the nose.

Maybe it's this whole Dragonborn business - it's made everything else muddy, why not my nightmares, too?

Ah, but so, the first task I'm set to do as a Companion, all official-like, is to head out near Windhelm (oh goodie,) and clear out a barrow of undead. If I'm very lucky, the undead in question will be more vampires - but very likely, not.

Thing is, I had a few tasks yet to wrap up in Falkreath, so I figured it best to address them, like.

One of the big ones was looking up Zora's sister, on account of it being a while since her last letter, and as it happens, the sister - name of Joselyn - had gotten herself in a bit of trouble, like.

See, apparently, she joined a coven with a real bitch of a head witch, and her work brought her in contact with this - crystal, what apparently turns you back into a kid for a span. I dunno, I - 

Well, I never really had a childhood, you know? Me and Ronthil were war brats, truth told. Mom said we had different fathers, but being neither of us ever got to meet the men as sired us, it hardly mattered. Once the deed was done, they spared not a glance back for the Bosmer they'd soiled, and Mom was left to fend for herself and us until it got to be too much.

So, maybe I did get all child-minded, but I kept my wits about me, and reminded Zora to do the same.

Which is good, since even as a kid, Joselyn knew how to set things ablaze, apparently. It could've been much worse - but it wasn't. 

Really getting my money's worth - figuratively speaking - out of this armor, ain't I?

Anyway, then on the way back, we set up shop in this cave, since it's cold as the most frozen pits of Oblivion, but it's even colder outside, on account of the mountains doing that thing where the wind turns cutting and the snow tries to put you in your grave early.

Maybe we could've visited Angi, but somehow I doubt, her being a hermit and all, she would've taken kindly to our little quartet turning up on her doorstep.

The cave wasn't empty, by the by. This lady - real standoffish, something of an adventurer, even if she claims otherwise, was here. She didn't mind spilling the secrets of the Companions, like I said, or near enough I could make an educated guess. 

For a given definition of 'educated.' I know my letters, but I'm not smart in the same way Lucien is, that's for damned sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nox is just unhappy bc Windhelm is supposed to be cold. She doesn't have any other reason to hate the city yet :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which destiny advances apace.

**\---Last Seed, 31st, 4E 201---**

Ivarstead.

I suppose if the gods have conspired to get me here, I might as well climb the damned mountain, but I won't be happy about it.

Seven thousand steps, and all of them appear to be vertical. It's no less steep a mountain, up close, and the cap is that cheery white I've come to associate with painful cold. My very favorite.

Fortunately for me, it's fuck o'clock at night, so I don't have to worry myself over going anywhere for a few hours more, but still.

Technically speaking, Ivarstead's only sort of on the way to Windhelm, but there's only so many places with an actual inn between here and there, so I figure we can all enjoy a taste of civilization and stock up on necessities while we're here.

Maybe it's not the gods. Maybe it's a Daedric ploy. Seems as likely as anything. Do I just have a sign on my back that reads, 'please interfere with my pitiful mortal existence' or something? I'm not particularly happy about escorting this mutt about, but - he's happy enough with my end of the agreement, so I don't mind.

According to Lucien, 'Barbas' - that's his name - is functionally a part of the Daedra Clavicus Vile. More accurately, he's the Prince's 'better half' - not in that sense, but in the sense he serves as a moral compass of sorts, in all the stories.

So, I could have done it - signed a pact with Vile to find my brother and drag him home by the ear, and maybe it would have worked, maybe not.

When even your 'better half' is telling folk not to trust any deal you try to strike, though - 

Well, let me just say I don't much trust that there won't be any messy surprises for me. At the very least, I'm going to try and stay on my guard with the Prince of Pacts, you know?

The deal as signed goes that I will travel with Barbas to claim the Rueful Axe, and return it to Clavicus Vile in exchange for his boon.

Nowhere in there is a timeframe, and I think Barbas is enjoying his freedom, because when I explained that I have shit to do, but I absolutely intend to comply with Vile's will, he didn't mind in the least.

Banishing Barbas apparently means that Vile can only manifest at his shrine, but the nature of banishment is that that's pretty much the one place Barbas cannot be.

So, you know. Travelling with a dog, now. An archer, a minstrel, two warriors, and a dog walk into the inn at Ivarstead.

There's no punchline, that's just the small army following me about.

It's a damn good thing I stopped stealing so damn much, given how many folk have their eyes on me. Not that I can bring myself to stop all the way - things just kind of find their way into my pockets, you know - but - less. And with less actual intent.

Wonder what this rock's worth, on a somewhat related note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AFT is my particular multifollower mod of choice. -thumbsup-
> 
> Nox literally has kleptomania. Whoops. At least her profession of choice accommodates such a disorder.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two days are better than one, and Nox is secretly a philanthropist.

**\---Heartfire, 1st, 4E 201---**

I suppose the climb could have been worse, but it was still fucking cold.

So. Freshly anointed as Dragonborn, in all but name. I gather once I go up north-ways and grab this 'horn of Jurgen Windcaller,' they'll announce it official-like, but given my progress thus far, there really can't be much doubt.

Apparently, it doesn't come so easy to most folk, even them with a talent for the art. Who knew?

Not I, that's for damn sure.

Anyway, I still have that job I took for the Companions, so we're headed out toward Eastmarch for right now. There's a little town in the Rift we stopped by, although 'town' might be generous. 

By the ruins, it used to be someplace important, but not so much anymore.

Turns out, one of the folk still clinging to the place is someone who speaks my language, if you know what I mean; he's got ties to the Guild proper, at least, the branch that's still hanging on in Skyrim.

See, apparently the war put everybody in disarray, even us unsavory sorts, so the Guild's hit a rough spot, or so this 'Slate' fellow says.

If I were wanting to get back in on that action, I'd want to head down to Riften proper - but ... I dunno.

Don't get me wrong, I still have an unfortunate habit of pocketing things nobody'd miss, but I'm happy enough how I am, for all that it's a hard life. 

I don't think I'd wanna give up the name I've been building for myself, to go back to how I used to live, especially when I remember how I used to live. Raw skeever and pray to all the gods you don't catch stomach rot, sleeping on the cold street with scraps of cloth for blankets - no thanks.

Maybe the tent leaks, maybe the mountains are cold, but I've got friends who won't stab me in the back, and that's something no amount of coin can buy, you know?

  
  
  
  


**\---Heartfire, 2nd, 4E 201---**

This little stopover took longer than I maybe meant, on account of Lucien's generosity rubbing off on me.

See, I tell them 'sure, why not, I'll put some of my coin toward helping you rebuild your place,' and next I know I'm having to talk over why I don't need another house and how everybody's so grateful for my help, and now there's even more folk who have a fair idea of who I am, and just - it was a mess. But hey, folk here have something like hope again. That's - that's something, honestly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blackthorn is a little town in the Rift that heavily utilizes the Hearthfire crafting system with the caveat that each building action takes at least an hour to complete. 
> 
> It's a lovely mod!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the nature of language is dissected, but only a bit.

**\---Heartfire, 3rd, 4E 201---**

As traumas go, 'our town was wiped out by a dragon and then somebody fought a dragon in the town square' probably isn't great.

I'm - starting to think these dragons are trying to hunt me down specifically.

Maybe it's my checkered past talking, but I'm feeling paranoid about this whole 'Dragonborn' business, and this is the fourth of these big fuck-off lizards that have tried to murder me.

I will say, I feel I'm gaining a deeper understanding of the way things work, anyway.

So, when we talk in our normal language, you know, as you do - that feels like more, the shadow of the word. 

When dragons talk, when the dragon language is spoken, that's more the essence of it. And when they speak, the world listens. So if you say 'fire' in the dragon language, then there's gonna be fire. If you speak the whirlwind, then there will be one.

Lucien's practically bouncing in his seat to hear me thinking out loud over this, and he's jotting down his own notes, on account of he's so damned exciteable about it.

Meanwhile, Zora wants the horn to summon dragons for some gods-forsaken reason - why does a horn have to do anything other than play music? Music is its own reward, or so I always figured - music's just something people do, it's fun, it makes folk happy, or lets them at least put less-happy feelings into the world and out of their hearts.

Lotta mournful songs in the Empire these days, but - there's still hope. There's always hope.

Maybe we don't have much else going for us, but as long as there's hope, folk have something to cling to, and that's important, you know?


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nox isn't a fan of Mr. Stone-fist or his attitude.

**\---Heartfire, 3rd, 4E 201---**

I'm not sure what the Nordic obsession with fistfights is, but I'm rather glad that my ability to put a man on the ground with a few quick hits hasn't dulled any.

You learn these things, growing up in the rough part of town.

It would've been embarrassing to go to put that Nord in his place, only to get my own teeth knocked in. Embarrassing, and inviting trouble, for that matter. But, I still know how to use a bit of flash to distract a man and hurt him both - and I swear, this ring wants to taste blood.

That's - probably just me putting a personality on something that has none, but the wolf's head had some of that bastard Nord's blood on it, when I went to wipe myself off.

So, I barely set foot in Windhelm, and already I've been in a fistfight and agreed to investigate a murderer.

Don't misunderstand - it's not altruism, per se, but if I can pull off something the guards can't - well, that's more of this fame I've been getting, and moreover, it's more coin in my purse and more food in my friends' bellies. So I'll handle this bit of business, however it goes, and then I'll deal with the undead I was sent out this way for.

Then, it's back to Whiterun. From there? Who knows. Can't say I'll miss the cold, though.

* * *

That - that was a fucked up dream, is what that was. The fellow from the crime scene, only he's standing over me, carving parts off my body with this unholy grin on his face.

Right, I'm awake. Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure it's nothing.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a mystery is solved post-mortem.

**\---Heartfire, 4th, 4E 201---**

That - isn't the motivation I expected, but it makes sense.

What wouldn't I do for my brother?

So this man, this 'Calixto,' apparently lost his sister, and this necromantic murder spree was a ploy to ensure he had enough parts to create a new body for her soul.

Morbid, but it makes sense, I guess. Lucien went over his notes, even if he looks a little green about it.

It was kind of clever, trying to frame the court wizard, but see - the thing about powerful people, wealthy or otherwise, is they don't tend to have to act so opportunistic. It just felt like a lowborn crime, you know? Powerful folk have less to fear. 

Anyway, the Draugr crypt was mostly just riddles, nothing that Lucien and I couldn't work out - mostly Lucien, though. The draugr - ghost - thing at the end was a tough bastard, though. 

So, that pretty much wraps up everything I had to do in Windhelm. Time to get far, far away from this awful city. Back to Whiterun, so I can report my success to the Companions - if they've got nothing else for me, I'll head north to see about collecting that horn the Graybeards want.

Maybe I'll even make my way all the way to Solitude, since the Rueful Axe is supposed to be around thereabouts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nox ain't afraid of no wizards.


	19. Chapter 19

**\---Heartfire, 6th, 4E 201---**

Gods, I missed being warm.

So we've set up camp outside this Draugr crypt, 'Dustman's Cairn,' with one of the Companions, Farkas. On the way here, we cleared out a couple of bandit camps - I apologized for the delay, but Farkas is a very even-tempered sort of person, it seems like.

I'm glad for that, honestly. Not too many words to the man, either, but there's more than enough talking to be had between Zora and Lucien, anyway, haha.

Don't get me wrong - they're great, dear friends and all. It's just - I'm used to silence, you know?

Lucien even came out and said it, or, well, sang it. 'Nox the nightwalker - good in a fight, not much of a talker.' That's me, all right.

I prefer writing down my thoughts. Sometimes - but only sometimes - it's good to actually talk about things. Helps you figure out the details, you know? But I spent too much of my life listening for other people - what they say, how they move, even their heartbeats, if they're close enough. 

The biggest thing about stealth is just knowing more about what's going on than anybody else in the room. You can't sneak up on someone if you're too busy getting snuck up on, you know?

And, naturally, stealth is a big part of being a thief, for all I hardly count as one anymore.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nox gets a real job, kind of.

**\---Heartfire, 7th, 4E 201---**

So, I'm officially a Companion-in-full, now.

I have to say, I sort of expected to have a lot - stronger reaction, I suppose. Even knowing it was coming, I just -

I've been seeing these creatures in my dreams for a few days now, and I'm starting to think that my dreams picked up a certain amount of foresight. When did that happen? I feel like it started sometime after the first dragon's soul, but I can't say I'm honestly certain on that point. 

More importantly, why aren't my dreams telling me anything about where to find my brother?

Ugh. Thus far I've kept these visions to myself, but I might have to ask Lucien. He's knowledgeable about all kinds of stuff, I just - 

He already looks at me like I'm some combination of research specimen and grand heroine. I'm like half-sure he's older than me, but because I have this dragon blood - and a bit more rough-and-tumble upbringing - I'm the weird one, while he gets to be just a scholar.

If I keep on with the Companions, there's a good chance I'll end up joining their 'circle,' or whatever, and then I'll have to become a werewolf to take up that mantle. Frankly, I expected Lucien to have a bit stronger reaction, too - rather, I expected him to be unnerved, rather than excited. I suppose I should have thought better of him; he's faced down dragons with me, after all.

I just wish he could look at me like an equal, instead of gawking like he's inferior, somehow. He isn't. I have this grand destiny, apparently, but I wouldn't have made it this far without my friends.

Zora likes to tease me about it all, at least - she understands, I think that I didn't ask for any part of this. I'm almost sure she's noticed the way I have to try not to flinch when people address me like I'm somebody important.

Lydia - Lydia doesn't say much. I wish I could get to know her better, but she just raises her eyebrow at me and continues sharpening her sword.

She says she's my sword and my shield, and she's fought dragons and giants at my side. I just - she's gorgeous, and she looks out for me, same as the others.

Why can't she open up to me like the others?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's because Lydia is a vanilla Skyrim follower and followers didn't start getting interesting until Serana.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Check back tomorrow!
> 
> Also check me out on Tumblr and other social media platforms @Nekhs, and I hope to see you around!


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